


The Past is The Present

by silvermoongirl10



Category: Ashes to Ashes
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, remembering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 17:22:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3986464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvermoongirl10/pseuds/silvermoongirl10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray and Chris are good friends in Gene's World. </p><p>But in the 'real world' Chris died in 1975 and Ray in 1976, what if they were friends in the 'real world? </p><p>This is from Ray's POV, following him remembering his friendship with Chris before and after his friend died. (takes place towards the end of 3x08)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Past is The Present

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story for this fandom so I apologize if anyone seems out of character!

**1983 (Gene’s world)**

Ray looked over at Chris. His friend was currently comforting Shaz, and Ray knew his young friend well enough to know that Chris was trying not to think about his own story after watching the video.

Just after he’d handed Chris his own video. And his friend had gone to watch his own end. That was when everything clicked into place.

Chris had come first to Gene’s squad before himself as a PC, but as soon as he’d walked through A Division’s doors in 1969, there was something familiar about Chris. He’d never been able to put his finger on it.

But now he remembered everything.

He had known Chris. Before either of them met their ends. They hadn’t been close like they were now, but they had been friends.

* * *

 

**January 1973 (‘real world’)**

Ray, a newly promoted Detective Constable, walked through the doors of the police station to see some of the new Police Constables milling around. He looked over seeing a range of facial expressions; anxiety, fear, pride and determination. In the sea of faces only one had a big excited grin on his face.

Ray looked closer and smiled to himself. He wondered how long the kid would last on the job. He’d seen others looking excited on their first day, and they never lasted long. But there was something about this kid, which was not only excited, but a mixture of all the other PC’s put together. Just then, someone must have called the kid’s name because the next thing Ray saw was the kid tripping over his own feet in his rush to the Desk Sergeant.

“Div,” muttered Ray shaking his head, now wondering about his own assessment of the kid. He then made his way up to CID.

It wasn’t until a month later that he saw the clumsy kid again. They got to speak all because the kid tripped over his own feet again, and ended up knocking into Ray.

“Oi watch it!” exclaimed Ray, as he was pushed into the wall of the corridor.

“I’m sorry!” apologized the kid wide eyed. His arms outstretched, as if he was preparing to keep an attacking Ray at bay.

Ray rolled his eyes, “It’s fine. Just watch where yer goin’ yer div.”

The kid nodded while flickering his gaze from Ray and then to his shoes, “I’ll try. Just sometimes I just can’ seem to keep me feet under me.”

“Well yer better learn quick. Won’t do ya much good otherwise,” commented Ray, the kid nodded again, “What’s yer name kid?”

The kid looked up and met Ray’s gaze. “Chris. Chris Skelton.”

“I’m Ray Carling,” added Ray. Chris smiled at him and then flinched hearing the Sergeant shouting his name. “Sounds like yer better get goin’.”

Chris nodded and then he was grinning that wide grin again, “See ya DC Carling!”

Ray shook his head in disbelief at the kid’s energy. But despite Chris’ clumsiness, energy and his wide grin, there was something likable about the kid. He was young yes, in his early twenties Ray guessed, probably explained his eagerness. But he would soon grow out of it.

* * *

 

**August 1973 (‘real world’)**

In the few months Chris had been a PC, he and Ray had started to become friends. It started with Ray having to catch Chris a few times in the corridor to prevent Chris from smashing his face on the floor, after tripping over his own feet again. Then it progressed to happening being in the same pub, and then they were arranging to meet up at the pub after their shifts.

Ray didn’t have many friends, but the young, enthusiastic PC was now one of them.

It was a warm sunny day in mid August when he walked downstairs of the station and saw a swarm of PCs and Sergeants directing men and women to the cells. He realized that something big had gone down. Ray looked out at the swarm of officers and spotted his young friend sporting a bloody nose.

Rolling his eyes Ray wandered over to Chris who had been pushed aside by the Desk Sergeant and directed to hold a handkerchief over his nose.

“Yer didn’ do that yerself did ya?” he asked with a sigh. Imagining Chris tripping over his feet and smashing his face on a wall.

Chris turned to look at him, still clutching his nose, and shook his head. “Nah. Got punched.”

Ray tried to contain his smirk at the sound of Chris’ voice being distorted by the blood and Chris’ grip on his nose. “Ah. First injury yer haven’t given yerself then.”

Chris rolled his eyes, “Haven’t injured meself on the job. Until now, that is.”

“Well that’s lucky for ya then, isn’t it?” sniggered Ray. Chris just rolled his eyes again and shook his head. “Oi!” exclaimed Ray, “Don’t do that, yer could stop any good the handkerchief is doing!”

“Sorry,” mumbled Chris.

“It’s fine,” sighed Ray, hiding a small fond smile.

* * *

 

**14 th February 1975 (‘real world’)**

Ray was stood in the main entrance of the station talking to Chris. In the past two years Chris hadn’t lost his enthusiasm for the job, and on the odd occasion still tripped over his own feet. But Ray was glad to notice that the number of times Chris did this was lessening. It wouldn’t do for Chris to trip and get himself injured worse while out on the streets.

“Well yer’ve been on the job for two years now,” started Ray looking at his friend. “Thinkin’ of joining CID?”

Chris shrugged, looking at his feet. “I dunno. I had been thinkin’ of it, but me Sergeant is still callin’ me a div and an idiot that wouldn’t last five minutes in CID. So maybe I better not.”

Ray frowned and then prodded Chris’ shoulder, he knew what he was about to say, could sound girly. But it looked as if his friend needed a confidence boost. His new Sergeant after all had been shouting and raving at Chris for the past two months. Most of which was undeserved.

“Now listen here Chris. Don’t listen to that idiot. Yer’d make a good addition to CID. And trust me, I’d know more than that div. I’m CID after all and he’s not.” Ray said seriously.

Chris turned and looked at his friend, a small smile beginning to form. “Yer really think so Ray?”

Ray nodded. Before he could change the subject Chris’ new Sergeant bellowed for the young PC to follow him. There was an incident that was rapidly going down hill and was turning serious.

Chris began jogging towards the Sergeant, and before he was out of the main doors, he turned and waved at Ray. “Catch you later Ray!” he grinned.

But there was no later.

About just over an hour later, Ray heard the news through the frantic chaos and gossip mill that was the station.

Police Constable Christopher Skelton was dead. Shot while on duty.

Ray was sat at his desk in utter shock. How could it be that the young PC, who’d waved a ‘see you later’ with a grin on his face just over an hour ago, now be gone? It didn’t make sense.

His DCI then entered the main office area to announce their squad was looking into what had happened. Ray didn’t know if he wanted to know what had happened. He could just about pretend that this was all a nightmare. But it wasn’t. He looked over and saw his DI had begun to put pictures up on a board of the scene, the known gang members that the police had gone to arrest and a department photo of Chris was added.

Ray scrunched his hands into fists when he saw Chris’ photo. It was a police department photo, when everyone looked his or her most serious. But in his, Chris was wearing. His. _Stupid. Big. Grin_. Ray gritted his teeth in frustration.

He managed to stay out of the interrogations of the gang members, better for them really, who had finally been arrested. However, the arrests were too late to save Chris.

They were all saying the same thing. While they were shooting at the two buildings Chris and his Sergeant were taking cover behind. They heard a sharp whistle and then after a pause a young PC came out from behind his cover and a second later he was lying on his back writhing on the floor before he went still.

So it was decided that they were going to bring in Sergeant Darrell. For this interrogation, Ray somehow managed to sit in on it. It was just himself and his DCI, staring across at Darrell who, despite watching his young colleague die in front of him three hours ago, was very calm. And even wondering why he was there. It was enough to set Ray’s teeth on edge.

Darrell leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Look. The _stupid div_ didn’t listen to me. He broke cover thinkin’ he could end the shooting before an innocent got killed. That’s all.”

Ray’s DCI leaned over the table slowly. “Well, funny thing. The gang mentioned hearing a whistle before _PC Skelton_ broke cover-”

“Wait!” interrupted Darrell, “I’m in here because yer choosing to listen to known gang members?! That ain’t right!”

“Nearby witnesses also recall hearing a whistle sounding,” Ray calmly stated. Darrell was asking for a punch to the face, if he were being honest. And it seemed his DCI agreed going by the look on his face.

“What? I _told ya_! Skelton didn’t listen to me! He broke cover!”

“NO HE DIDN’T!” thundered Ray, shooting to his feet, causing his chair to skitter back across the floor with a sharp clatter. He braised his hands on the table and stared into Darrell’s eyes and with a threateningly lowered voice said. “Yer _ordered_ him to break cover. Yer _blew yer whistle_ and _made_ him go out _into the open_.”

“I only did what I thought was best!” exclaimed Darrell wide eyed.

Ray narrowed his eyes, “What was _best **?**_ Ya sent Chris into the _open_ , and where were ya? _Cowering behind some_ _damn wall_. When Chris was following yer _stupid orders_ and was killed for it.”

Darrell sat back in a defensive posture, “Police officers die on duty…” he mumbled.

Ray threw his hands up in the air. “He was _twenty-three_! He was _just a kid_! He had a promising career ahead of him! And ya _destroyed_ that!”

“Don’t know why yer gettin’ so worked up,” muttered Darrell.

“Because he was my friend,” snapped Ray. Shaking his head he turned around and began to walk out of the room. He opened the door and before he walked out, he turned his head a little in Darrell’s direction, but didn’t look at the Sergeant. “Yer may not have pulled the trigger. But ya killed him, his blood is on yer hands.” Then he marched out of the room slamming the door behind him.

* * *

 

**19 th February 1975 (‘real world’)**

Ray was stood in the cemetery in his dress uniform among a range of ranks of the police. Thankfully Sergeant Darrell was not present, he’d been quietly transferred from the station once it became clear he was responsible for what happened to Chris.

Ray stood to attention as the coffin containing his friend was lowered into the ground. He watched with sad eyes as Chris’ mum cried into her husband’s shoulder. Once they were dismissed he stayed standing where he was and just stared at the new gravestone. He read it and re-read it until he couldn’t bear to read it anymore.

_Police Constable Christopher Daniel Skelton_

_1952 – 1975_

_Gave his life for the service of this city._

With one more glance at Chris’ grieving parents he turned and then walked way. The past few days not seeing Chris at the station had been weird, and Ray didn’t know how he was going to continue going to work and not having to catch a young PC before he face planted the floor. The few days he had been walking around, he had been expecting to walk into Chris while walking around a corner with Chris wearing his stupid grin. But that hadn’t happened, and it never would again.

Once he got home it was to find the day’s newspaper on his doorstep. Bending down he picked it up and walked into his flat. After he had dropped his hat on the table, unbuttoned his uniform jacket and loosened his tie. He unfolded the paper to find the front page was about Chris. He found himself looking at Chris’ department photo again. Instead of ignoring it again, he cut out the article. Then he set on the sideboard in his living room. After lowering himself into his armchair, he looked over at the article and shook his head.

“Shouldn’t have happened,” he mumbled. “Deserved better than that.”

After that day Ray could never bring himself to go to Chris’ grave. But when he would come home at night he would look at the slowly yellowing article and find himself wondering. What would Chris have been like as a Detective Constable? Ray would softly chuckle knowing Chris’ enthusiasm would have remained and he would still be wearing his big grin. But he would have been a good DC. Of that Ray was sure.

* * *

 

**14 th February 1976 (‘real world’)**

Ray and his DS were following a lead on a case and when his DS was questioning a witness. He realized that they were just down the street from where Chris was killed. Ray found himself staring at the corner, just fifty metres away. As he stared he could hear a faint sound of gunfire, and he could imagine seeing Chris pushing his back against the wall. He shook himself before his mind finished playing out what happened. Ray just hoped Darrell had learnt his lesson, and didn’t get more innocent PCs killed.

Hearing that his DS had finished his questions, Ray followed him back to car. He didn’t look back once. That night once he got home he picked up the almost year old article. He flickered his eyes over to the bin. However, his feet wouldn’t move. So instead he roughly opened a drawer on the sideboard and shoved the article in there.

His personal life was feeling as if it was starting to slide and work was beginning to get to him. As well as the feeling of disappointing his father. So he found he couldn’t bear the sight of Chris’ smiling face. He knew had Chris still been alive, and then things might not be so bad. Chris could light up the most depressing of rooms. But Chris wasn’t here and Ray didn’t want to be reminded of that anymore. So once the article was hidden away, he never let himself think about his young friend again.

He never took the article out of the drawer again.

And when his flat was cleared out in May, the article was swept up with other pieces of paper and thrown away.

* * *

 

**1983 (‘Gene’s world’)**

Shaz had gone back to Gene and Alex, but Ray and Chris were still standing in the hallway with the open lift staring at Keats.

“Give me the radio Chris,” demanded Keats, a hand outstretched.

Ray looked at his friend who was still tightly gripping the radio. “Chris?”

Keats took a step forward, but Chris stood his ground holding his head higher.

“Chris. I’m _ordering you_ to give me that radio!” Chris just stared back, his grip on the radio tightening even more. “Just do as you’re told!” ordered Keats.

Ray looked on in shock as a horrified look passed over Chris’ face, eyes taking on a blank look for a few seconds. Then Chris’ face hardened and glared at Keats.

“No,” snapped Chris, he then looked at Ray. “I’m sorry Ray but I can’t go.” And with that Chris swiftly left the hallway. It took half a second before Ray was following his friend. Hearing Keats’ angry shouts behind them, echoing down the corridor.

As they were walking down the corridor that led to their office space, Ray noticed that with his free hand. Chris was rubbing his chest as if it hurt. Ray threw out an arm to stop Chris.

“What’s the matter? Yer hurt?” he asked,

Chris swallowed as he shook his head. His eyes clenched shut.

“Chris?”

“It…it’s what he said,” mumbled Chris, opening his eyes to only stare at nothing. “‘Just do as yer told’. Couldn’t go. Not… not after seeing the…video…and hearing that.”

Ray looked at his friend in concern, “What happened on the video?” Because really, while he’d interviewed Darrell and heard what the gang had said. He’d never really _known_ what had happened to Chris that day.

“Before he blew the whistle. Darrell…he…er…he said to do as I’m told. Then he blew the whistle. Then…well…I imagine yer know what happened then.”

“Yeah. I know,” Ray replied softly, nodding his head. And as he reflected on what Chris said, it made sense why his friend was scared of the sound of whistles. So smiling Ray patted Chris on the shoulder. After gaining his friend’s attention, he said. “I told ya, yer’d make a good DC.”

Chris then relaxed and smiled his big grin at Ray. “Come on. We’d better go and give em a hand.”

* * *

 

**The Pub**

Once Ray, Chris and Shaz had walked through the door of the Railway Arms they immediately saw Sam and Annie standing in front of them.

“Alright Boss. Annie,” greeted Chris with a smile.

“Hiya Chris. Ray,” smiled Sam.

Once Shaz had been introduced to Sam and Annie and Alex had joined them. They all got a table with a pint and began catching up.

“So yer really were from 2006?” asked Ray, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yep,” grinned Sam. “So how’d you like the ‘80s?”

“Was alright,” commented Chris, still with an arm around Shaz’s shoulders.

“Second time I’ve seen them,” chuckled Shaz.

Ray rolled his eyes, “Okay no need to joke about me and Chris being old,” he teased.

Shaz then looked at Ray and Chris quizzically. Ray knew what she was thinking; she was wondering when he and Chris had died. To not have experience the ‘80s before.

Alex was on the same wavelength as Ray, so she raised her glass and smiling toasted. “2008.”

Sam raised his glass, “2006.”

Smiling Annie leaned into Sam also holding her glass up, “1973.”

“1995,” toasted Shaz, she then looked up at Chris.

Chris kissed Shaz’s cheek before saying, “1975.”

And lastly Ray added, “1976.”

Ray looked over to see Sam smiling knowingly, “How’d you know?”

“When I temporarily went back to 2006. Did some research. Found out about Annie, you and Chris.”

Ray nodded and then looked over at a chuckling Shaz, “What?”

Shaz shook her head, “It’s not funny. So I don’t know why I’m laughing.” Seeing both Ray’s and Chris’ looks she continued. “It’s just. I was three in 1975.”

Chris laughed, “Bit weird that isn’t it?”

Everyone then began striking up conversations and Ray turned to Chris, “You okay?”

“Yep,” grinned Chris, “You?”

“Never better,” responded Ray honestly. For the first time in a long time he felt peaceful and relaxed. He new Keats had had an agenda when he’d left the videos out. But Ray was glad he’d watched his video. Now he could finally remember his life in the ‘real world’ and his friendship with Chris from before.

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> For Annie’s death I’m going off the basis that four year old Sam wouldn’t have stopped his dad from beating Annie (the woman in the red dress).


End file.
